To Grandfather

May 5, 2008 at 11:53 pm Leave a comment


         To Grandfather
sparks rose, once, long ago
from this old campsite’s
     fire pit; you can scarcely tell, now, some
fifteen years
later, so overgrown by
     wild wheat and foxtail, blackberry vines,

my grandfather first camped here
some fifty years ago.  later
     he bought the land
and built his house.  (some dreams leave real trace.)

the wild roses are beginning
to blossom; the clay soil
     is nearly dry; in a week
or two, there’ll be threat of fire again.  i sit again
on the rock
     i thought once to polish
with my jeans.

here, at spring’s-death, summer’s-verge, silent, in
     an oft-remembered place
i sit once again in my place, thinking to spy smoke
from a fire long-dead.



Though the poem covers a span longer than it might seem, it actually is real.

Entry filed under: poetry. Tags: , , , .

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